


Echo of silence

by Nival_Vixen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Complete, Derek Has Feelings, Derek Takes Care Of Stiles, Derek Uses His Words, Derek is Not a Failwolf, Derek is Stiles' Anchor, Derek kills Kate, F/M, Hurt Stiles, Injured Stiles, M/M, Mute Man saves Stiles, Mute Stiles, Shadows - Freeform, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Pack, Stiles' Mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 10:11:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1936920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is fatally injured while fighting off Kate and the Beserkers. As Scott won't make it to him in time, the only one who can save Stiles is their new and unexpected ally - the Mute Man.</p><p>Waking up with no mouth, no lips, and no way of talking, Stiles must learn what it is to be a Mute Man, and how to survive without his sarcasm to defend him.</p><p>Thankfully, Stiles discovers that being a Mute Man isn't without its perks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echo of silence

They've ended up right where this all started: at the hospital. Kate's been dragged back in to town by Braedan, and the Beserkers are putting up one hell of a fight. Stiles gets paired off with Derek and Lydia, and while he's not entirely happy with their newest ally, the Mute Man is with them too. Scott chases after one of the Beserkers with Liam, Kira, and Malia flanking him, a supernatural pack to the end. Peter is meant to be helping them too, but he's stuck inside of the hospital where another Beserker has the Sheriff and Melissa cornered. Stiles hopes that Peter's actually trying to save them instead of running away again. He sees Derek and Lydia working to fend off a Beserker, Lydia actually managing to use her Banshee scream now that she's been working with Parrish (Stiles still has no idea what he is, or what's going on there, but Lydia is smiling again, so he doesn't care). Stiles is swinging his bat at one Beserker, calling out for the Mute Man to actually help him for fuck's sakes, and the man flings an axe at him. Stiles shouts and tries to move out of the way, but the axe is too fast, and then it whirls past his body completely, and there's a howl of pain directly behind him. He shoves at the Beserker now that it's gone still, and turns to see Kate Argent standing there with a fucking axe sticking out of her body. He crows in delight, even as her eyes shift colour, and then she's pulling out the goddamn axe, and Stiles' cry of victory dies in his throat. He can't move, the Beserker suddenly has a hold around his throat, and then Kate's wounds heal right before his eyes as she lifts the axe and swings it towards him.

There's a roar behind them, Lydia's screaming, and Stiles has an axe actually fucking embedded in his body. Stiles' bat drops to the ground, even as he sees Kate torn apart by Derek, the Beserkers dropping one by one around them, and he follows his bat a second later, dropping to the ground. He's dying, he knows he is, and the only Alpha in the pack is on the other side of the hospital, probably dealing with his own fight right now. Derek's still fighting and killing Kate, Lydia's still screaming Kate's name, and Stiles is pretty sure that his name's next on her lips. Not exactly the way he wanted her to be screaming out his name. Stiles looks over to the Mute Man, still surprised at the unexpected ally especially with his hit-list of supernatural beings, and the mouthless man looks back at him, as if waiting for something. All Stiles knows is that he's not ready to die yet.

"Please," he begs, though he's not even sure what he's begging for.

With that one word, the man nods and steps forward to his broken body, his own body changing and shifting beneath the black clothes. Stiles can hear a scream - it's not Lydia anymore, at least he doesn't think it is - and then the man's face is changing, and there's a sharp gasp of air before all he can feel is pain. His mouth is stretching, the skin around it pulling down and closing up. _Maybe he's the one that's screaming_ , Stiles thinks hazily, and then the world goes dark.

...

Stiles wakes up in a bed, everything aching and he still feels exhausted despite however long he's slept. He moves to sit up, a little surprised to notice he's not in a hospital, and definitely not in his own room. He frowns and opens his mouth to say something, call out, anything, but he can't.

He remembers the fight, the axe that had been shoved in to his stomach by Kate, Derek's roar as he killed her and Lydia's scream, and the Mute Man shifting as he walked over to him. Slowly, his hands trembling, Stiles lifts his hands to his mouth. It's no longer there.

He wants to scream, but he can't.

The door opens and the Mute Man walks in, holding a tray of what looks to be surgical equipment. Stiles has seen enough horror movies to know where this is going and he pales, shrinking back on the bed. The Mute Man must see his alarm - it's probably not that hard, mouth or not - and shakes his head. He indicates to a small plugged hole on the side of his neck and okay, not a horror movie because obviously they've got to eat somehow, but _ewww_.

The Mute Man ignored Stiles' expression and looks out the door, gesturing for someone to come inside. Stiles is expecting Scott, or even his father, but it's Derek, and he lowers his gaze - his face - so he won't see Derek's expression. Stiles is itching to say something, make a joke, but fuck it all, he _can't_. _Not anymore_.

He starts in surprise when a notepad is dropped on his lap, and a warm hand slides under his chin to tilt his head up. Stiles doesn't realise he's crying until he looks up and sees that Derek's blurry.

"I still don't think it'll be enough to keep you quiet, do you?" Derek asks, voice surprisingly soft and kinder than he'd expected.

Stiles picks up the pen that rolled off the notepad, wipes at his tears, and scribbles something quickly, holding the pad up.

_Fuck you._

Derek just smiles in return, his thumb caressing Stiles' chin softly as the Mute Man moves forward with his tray. Stiles' eyes widen in fear and he clutches at Derek, who doesn't seem annoyed or even surprised by the firm grip.

"This option will allow you to lead a semi-normal life, Stiles. It is either this or a needle in your arm feeding you intravenously. I have been told you do not like needles, Stiles. Which would you prefer?" the computerised voice comes from a hand-held device in the Mute Man's grip.

He gulps, which means he still has a throat hopefully, and takes a moment to really think about it. The Mute Man's neck isn't really obvious unless you're looking for it, but the guy also wears high-necked sweaters too. The kind that look itchy, so obviously he's a glutton for punishment or something. Stiles grabs the notepad again, Derek finally letting go of him.

_You're lucky I look good in turtlenecks._

Derek chuckles, which is nice, and Stiles feels like his eyes are showing a grin even if his face can't.

He starts in fear at the needle the Mute Man produces, but Derek nods, and he realises it's a sedative to knock him out. Stiles nods, offers his arm and looks the fuck away. He breathes in sharply at the prick of his skin, but tells himself that there's no way he's staying _conscious_ for this shit. The sedative works quickly through his veins and on his empty stomach, and Stiles feels Derek holding his arm as he drops off into sleep.

In his mind though, Stiles finds that he can still feel the pain and he screams, even though he knows that no one will ever hear him scream again.

...

 

Stiles comes back to consciousness with a stutter in his chest, his eyes wide and he wants to cry because he can't scream out his pain. There's an itching feeling at his neck, and he wants to claw at the skin, even though he knows there'll be a hole there, but Derek's hands are holding him down, black veins prominent as he continues to leech his pain.

 _He'll have to tell Derek that it doesn't work for itchiness_ , Stiles thinks to himself; _it's important, obviously. What if there's an itchy demon or something? That could totally be a thing, and they'd all itch and scratch themselves to death_.  He shivers at the thought, his mind bringing up the gruesome image almost involuntarily.

Derek murmurs something soft and soothing, but Stiles doesn't catch the words themselves, and he lets himself doze back off to sleep as Derek continues to hold him down and take his pain.

...

The next time Stiles wakes, he's alone in the room. He's able to sit up, and though his body aches, there's no pain in his neck. He can feel something wrapped around it, a gauze maybe, and while Stiles is curious, he's not brave enough to actually feel it and check. So long as he doesn't have to see his reflection for a couple of days while he wraps his mind around all of this, Stiles will be fine. _Probably_.

Suddenly he thinks about his father. Has anyone let him know what's going on? The last he saw of him, John was fighting back a Beserker inside of the hospital with Melissa. If he's home thinking that Stiles is dead - or something worse (over the years, there's plenty they've seen that's worse than death, and sometimes, Stiles wishes he never knew that death wasn't the worst thing that could happen to his life) - then Stiles will be so fucking pissed off.

He hasn't survived this damn long only to let his father think he's died. Stiles isn't a noble hero and about to give up his entire life for the greater good; fuck **that** ten times over. He's going to be home with his father, and while it might be a bit quieter, Stiles is pretty sure he'll be able to nag his dad about food via notepads still. Or get one of those voice things that the Mute Man had. (Stiles really needs to give him a name; it's starting to annoy him that he's always referring to him as the Mute Man. _Greg's a good name_ , Stiles decides. It doesn't make him want to go running in the other direction, at least. He'll think of him as Greg until he has the Mute Man's actual name.)

Stiles gets out of bed and goes over to the door. He's dressed in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, and they're not even his. His limbs feel all weird, which is weird in itself; he's lost his mouth, not his arms or legs, so they shouldn't feel that way if they're still there, right? He wants to frown, and his eyebrows make the motion, but he's not Derek, and it's kind of not the same without his lips turning down to a frown. Fuck, this is weird and he actually misses his mouth. He squares his shoulder, sets his jaw (the best he can, at least), and leaves the small bedroom to find exactly where he's been staying.

The corridor outside is cooler than the small bedroom, and Stiles rubs his bare arms, shivering. There's light coming from an open door further up the corridor, and he looks inside. The Mute Man - Greg - is in there, seated in front of a computer, and Stiles gives a wave to get his attention and say hello all at once. Greg nods back, slowly, as if he's not sure how to respond, and well, Stiles kind of feels slightly better because that's a surprisingly common response to his general self. He spies the notebook on the computer desk, and points to it, silently asking if he can use it again. Greg nods briefly and holds it out for him, along with a pen.

Hi. Thanks for saving my life. What exactly happened to my mouth? Did it get sucked away, or is there some sort of alternate universe where mouths go? Also, has anyone told my dad what's going on? Is he still alive? He's still alive, right?

Greg puts a hand up to stop him from writing any more questions, and starts to type on his computer. Stiles, too impatient for the software to translate the words aloud, reads over his shoulder instead.

Your mouth is still there, Stiles. You have a tongue, you just no longer have lips through which to talk or eat. Derek is bringing your father now. He is still alive, and as far as I am aware, only bruised from his fight. Melissa suffered a concussion but is all right as well. You have been asleep for two days, he writes before Stiles can ask the question again.

What am I? he asks, writing the question over itself until the words are dark enough to bleed through to the page underneath.

Greg doesn't seem to have an answer for that, but instead, looks past Stiles and nods. He turns and sees Derek standing there, his father behind him. Stiles is relieved to see his father, and Greg was right about the bruising (from what Stiles can see, he's got bruises around his neck and forearms). He moves forward to hug him, like they always do when they're separated after a fight, but John actually takes a step back. Stiles stops immediately, hands falling to his side. Yeah, fuck. Forgot about the face for a second there. He probably looks terrifying. Shit, he's not going to cry. He's not. Fuck.

"Hey, Stiles. You all right there, kid?" John asks slowly, his voice a few decibles higher than normal.

Stiles wipes at his eyes, going for discreet, but obviously failing, and looks up. John just stares at him for a minute, even after Stiles nods in response to his question, and his gaze keeps dropping to where Stiles' mouth should be. It makes Stiles nervous, it's too quiet, and he can't fill the silence anymore. So instead, he writes on the notepad and then holds it up for John to read.

"Going to be a lot quieter around the house... Yeah, I guess it will be," John replies. Again, his words are slow, over pronounced, and louder than normal.

Stiles frowns with his eyebrows (eat your heart out, Derek), and writes on the pad again.

"I'm not deaf, Dad. I can... oh, right. Sorry. Not really sure how to deal with this. Can I sit down somewhere?" John asks, a little weakly.

Stiles turns around, only to find Greg standing off his chair and nudging it towards him. He thanks him with a nod, and pushes the chair over to his father. Derek seems a little concerned and helps John sit down.

"It's your whole mouth, Stiles... It's gone. I mean, what do you eat? How do you talk? Do you have to carry a notepad around everywhere? I mean, I'll probably have to seriously start wearing my reading glasses if that's the case, but I'll do it. I'll be fine in the long run, but I'm not sure how to deal with this right now," John says, words running on and together as he stares up at Stiles again.

Stiles can't feel too upset about that; he doesn't really know how to deal with it either.

Greg types something into the computer, synthetic words following. "I will show Stiles how to eat. There are devices that can talk for him, if he types fast enough. I would prefer to keep Stiles here for a few weeks to ensure that everything works smoothly."

"Look, I'm glad you saved my kid, believe me, I am. But I don't know you, I don't know what you are, or what you've made Stiles in to. I wouldn't ... I can't leave Stiles here alone with you," John says, shaking his head.

"I'll stay," Derek offers before Stiles can even pick up the pen to argue. "Stiles will still be in a lot of pain with the wound on his neck, and I can help with that," he adds.

"I will not force you to stay, Stiles," Greg adds.

Stiles looks between the three of them, his father a bit pale and still trying to come to grips with this, Derek who's just standing back waiting, and Greg who probably knows how to deal with this better than anyone. He nods and writes on the notepad.

" _No bacon, fried foods, or takeaway of any kind while I'm here. I'll be calling you every night, and Derek will tell me if you're lying_... Geez, all right, kid. I'll eat as healthily as I can, I promise, okay?"

Behind him, Derek nods slightly, looking amused. Stiles leans down to hug his father firmly.

"What about school? You've just started back, and you've got lacrosse now," John says, looking between Stiles and Greg.

Stiles shrugs in response and Greg types on the keyboard.

"Stiles' survival is more important than his schooling at this moment. Your son is very smart and will be able to catch up on the missed two weeks, I am sure."

Stiles nods as adamantly as possible. _He can totally do this_.

John sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "There's a flu going around; I'll tell them you've got that. It might explain for the lack of voice if we can figure out what to do with the rest of you," he adds, weakly attempting a joke.

It's not exactly funny, but they're both trying, and Stiles knows it. Since he can't grin, he gives his dad a thumbs up instead. John seems placated by that, and stands up again, a little firmer now that he's been spending time with Stiles and can see that he's really all right, even without a mouth. He pulls his son in for a firm hug and Stiles squeezes his eyes shut in a grimace of pain because it _hurts_ , the pressure on his body and neck, but he can't communicate that. Derek's hand grabs his and leeches the pain immediately. Stiles opens his eyes, wishing he could thank him, but Derek seems to understand anyway, and just gives a brisk nod in return. John pulls away, and Derek transfers his hand over to John's shoulder instead. Stiles is surprised to see the pain leeching out of his father too, and wonders just how bruised the rest of him is, and how much that hug had to have hurt him as well. John smiles a little and ruffles Stiles' hair.

"You look after yourself, kid, okay? I'll talk to you tomorrow night. You get Derek to help you talk back to me if you need, okay?"

Stiles nods firmly, and he breathes in through his nose (thank god he still has a nose) to steady his emotions and get himself under control again. John lets himself be led back outside by Derek, who leaves without a word, and Stiles pushes the chair back over to Greg.

"You should rest for the remainder of the night, Stiles. Let yourself heal from the were-panther's injury, and we will start your training tomorrow. You have a lot to learn."

Stiles wonders what Greg would do if he pointed out that he sounds like Stephen Hawking and looks like Voldemort. He doesn't dare write it - it's not the same when he can't inflect the sarcasm into the words - and just leaves back through the cold corridor to his small room. He falls asleep surprisingly fast.

...

 

The training Stiles goes though starts with him learning how to turn his food into liquid mush so it can be fed via a tube into his neck. Greg shows him how to put as much protein, energy, fibre in (all the good stuff that a growing Mute Man needs, obviously) so he only needs to feed once a day. It's so fucking weird, holding up a bag with what's essentially his breakfast, watching it slide down into his throat. He doesn't have a fancy machine like Greg does, so it takes Stiles a good thirty minutes to get it all in, working his throat to swallow so he doesn't choke on the liquid mess. He tries to tell himself that this is what happens in his stomach and intestines anyway, and it shouldn't matter what it looks like going in. Still, Stiles tends to close his eyes when it's feeding time.

Then, after he's fed and cleaned up the mess on his throat, Greg connects a different tube to his neck, this one connected to the computer. The rush of information that feeds into his brain and body is fucking insane. It's like every book he's ever read is pouring in through this liquid (he doesn't ask and doesn't want to know; okay, he asks like five times and Greg refuses to answer, same thing) and into his head. The output into the computer is in a code that reminds Stiles of _The Matrix_ , but the weird thing is when he has that liquid inside of him, he can actually read the code like it's written in plain English. It's harder without the liquid, but not completely impossible, and Greg is surprisingly patient as he teaches Stiles what each symbol means.

Stiles can read Greg's address and information list of all of the supernatural beings in Beacon Hills - there's a fuck-load more than he ever suspected, and some of these people Stiles has known since he was a kid; it's not just the awakening of the Nemeton that's brought all of these creatures in, though they're probably more aware of the Nemeton now. _Fucking hell, there's a witch that lives on his street!_ He fucking _knew_ that old Mrs. Kibbitch was a witch because there was no way that someone was able to make perfect pumpkin pies every Halloween, but no one ever believed him. Oh, he's going to grill her ... as soon as he gets a voice thing of his own. (Maybe he'll be able to get her recipe for pumpkin pie; it's seriously delicious and he's pretty sure he can goop it down.)

Derek arrives every night around 6pm, and Greg disappears. Stiles asks where he goes, but Derek doesn't seem to know, and Greg refuses to tell him when he sees him again in the morning. Derek does as he promised, and then some. He makes sure that Stiles is never in pain (the itchiness fades, thankfully), and then he keeps him entertained long into the night. Stiles calls his father every second night, listening to him talk about work, and writing things for Derek to say for him. He makes sure his father lists every single thing that he's eaten that day, watching the responses from Derek to see if he's telling the truth. John only tries lying once; apparently it's much scarier having a werewolf berate you for eating curly fries than it is a teenage son.

After Stiles has been with Greg for a week, Derek arrives with a gift bag in hand. Stiles is suspicious and excited all at once, but patiently waits until Greg disappears to do whatever it is that he does at night before he drags Derek back to his small room. Derek closes the door behind him, making sure to keep the cool air outside, and waits until Stiles sits up on his bed as per usual, cross-legged and waiting impatiently. He moves to sit up beside him, wrapping the thick blanket around both of them before he gives Stiles the bag. Stiles makes a show of squeezing his eyes tightly as he sticks his hand in the bag, and pulls out the small box. He frowns with his eyebrows (he's been practicing in front of the small bathroom mirror), but Derek just nods, encouraging him to open it. Stiles shrugs and opens the box, eyebrows raising in delight when he sees the handheld voice simulator. He turns to hug Derek warmly, wishing he could smile and thank him with his words. Then Stiles realises that he kind of can, and hurries to set up the device. Fifteen minutes later, Stiles finishes setting it up, and types in his message carefully.

"Thank you so much, Derek. I really appreciate it." Stiles raises one eyebrow in a frown and types another message. "I sound like Stephen Hawking. Is there a Morgan Freeman option?"

Derek laughs and shakes his head. "Don't think there is, Stiles. For that, you'd need an iPhone and app simulator."

"Damn it." Stiles shrugs then and snuggles against Derek's chest. "I like this better. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, how are you feeling? Any sort of pain?" Derek asks.

Stiles shakes his head briefly. "No. But stay. Please?"

"Didn't plan on going anywhere anyway," Derek admits, brushing Stiles' hair back and holding him close.

They're silent for a few minutes, Derek and Stiles both relaxed enough in the other's presence to not need to say anything, voice simulator or not. Then Stiles sits up, looking serious all at once, and types something into the device.

"I miss my mouth. I could kiss you then. Please do not hate me." Stiles winces, even as his cheeks go red.

Derek shakes his head. "I don't hate you, Stiles. Amazingly, I miss your mouth too," he adds, smiling. "You drive me crazy with that mouth of yours... I'd like to kiss you anyway, is that okay?" Derek asks.

Stiles nods firmly, though he has no idea what it's going to be like without a fucking mouth to kiss. He stays completely still as Derek moves towards him, and then Derek's kissing him right where his mouth should be. It's a bit weird, and all Stiles can think is that it's probably weirder for Derek. He doesn't seem to have any complaints though, and Derek moves to his neck, the side without the hole, and Stiles shudders a little bit because yeah, okay, that feels _good_. Derek pulls back to look at him, and Stiles nods firmly, trying to tell him that he's okay. Derek smiles, presses another kiss to his non-mouth, and then moves to suck a hickey on his neck. Holy hell, that feels even better than good, and Stiles clings onto Derek's shoulders as he kisses, licks, and nips at his skin gently.

 _Fucking hell, they could have been doing this for months already!_ Stiles would have kissed Derek properly, like he was meant to be kissed, too. Fuck, he wants to cry at this, because now he'll never be able to kiss Derek the way he's wanted to for so long, all teeth and tongues and lips. Stiles shoves at Derek to get him off and Derek pulls away from him abruptly, as if he's hurt Stiles.

"Are you all right, Stiles? Did I do something wrong?"

Eyes burning with hot tears, Stiles types in a message. He can't bring himself to look up at Derek when he presses the play button.

"I cannot do this. I want to kiss you, but I cannot do that either. You should be with someone normal, someone who will be able to kiss you properly."

Derek sits back, looking a little surprised at Stiles' message. "I don't want someone normal, Stiles. I want you... Besides, my track record with supposedly normal people isn't the best. I don't mind that you can't kiss me. You have hands and the rest of your body; you just have to learn how to kiss me with them," Derek adds with a grin, taking hold of one of Stiles' hands.

Stiles finally looks up at Derek, and sees that he's being totally sincere. Derek freaking Hale actually wants to be with him? Even though he doesn't have a freaking mouth... All at once, it's too weird to wrap his head around, and Stiles shakes his head a little. He squeezes Derek's hand so he doesn't get the wrong impression and uses his free hand to awkwardly type something.

"Finding it hard to believe. But stay. Please?"

Derek just nods and pulls Stiles in close again. "I miss hearing you talk," Derek admits a few minutes later. "You'll have to practice on that device so you can talk just as much as you used to."

"Plan on it. Is Scott okay? And the others?" Stiles asks; he hasn't had enough courage to ask before now, and he's usually exhausted after his training with Greg.

"Scott's worried about you, but I've told him you're okay. Lydia's working with Deputy Parrish, but still hasn't told anyone what exactly he is. Malia's staying with Kira, and they seem to be okay, though they're worried about you as well. Liam's learning, though he has a tendency to show off on the field, according to Scott."

Stiles nods and types again. "Do they know about my mouth?"

"Yes, they all saw it after the fight at the hospital. Scott's been at your house while we've talked to your father," Derek admits.

"Why did he not say hello?"

Derek shrugs. "Maybe he thought it best to leave you to talk to your father."

Stiles frowns and sighs through his nose (it's harder than it sounds), but nods. "I am tired now. Sleep with me?"

"All right. You steal the blankets, so let me in first," Derek says, grinning.

Stiles chooses to scowl at him instead of typing something. But he lets Derek get in bed first, carefully setting his voice device on the small table beside his bed. He's looking forward to talking to his dad with it tomorrow, and doesn't want to accidentally break it between now and then.

Stiles sees that Derek's already on his side, waiting for Stiles to join him, and his eyes brighten up in a smile. He slips into bed, careful not to hit his neck, and cuddles up close to Derek's chest. Derek wraps an arm around Stiles' waist and presses a kiss to his head. Stiles looks up at him, and remembering Derek's words about using the rest of his body, runs the pad of his thumb along Derek's bottom lip. Derek seems to completely understand what he's trying to do, and smiles at him, moving to rub his nose against Stiles' gently. Stiles knows that it's a sign of respect and love by the Maoris in New Zealand, as well as Eskimos and Hawaiians, and thinks that maybe it can be their way of showing love too. He keeps his eyes open and returns the gesture, watching as comprehension seems to fill Derek's expression. Stiles pulls away to press his non-mouth to Derek's cheek, and then settles back in to sleep.

...

 

Greg doesn't seem surprised by the hickey on Stiles' neck, or at the small device he has at breakfast. He uses his own to ask to look it over, and Stiles hands it to him as he prepares his breakfast. He's gotten quite adept at it now, and can even connect the tube without looking. It strikes him as he's swallowing that this is the first time Derek's actually stayed the night through and will see him eating. Stiles looks over at him, almost choking when he forgets to swallow, but though he's watching curiously, Derek doesn't seem disgusted or turned off by what Stiles has to do to survive now. Stiles nods to Derek's own breakfast of toast, sausages, tomatoes, and baked beans, and Derek keeps eating, his eyes glancing over at Stiles every now and then.

"It is a good device. If you can, find a leather bag to hold it in so that it will not get water damaged," Greg says, handing it back to Stiles.

"Thank you. Will you tell me how to do that shifting thing you do this week?" Stiles asks.

"It took me years to get it right, Stiles. There is no point me showing you when you are still learning the basics."

"I can feed myself, and I know how to read your damn code with or without the liquid now. What other basics are there?" he demands, a little annoyed because that's all they've been doing for the past week.

"You will see. Finish eating."

"Do you mind if I stay, or would you prefer that I leave?" Derek asks, looking between them when his plate's empty.

"Stay, you may be needed earlier than usual today," Greg replies before Stiles can even get his thumbs on the keyboard.

Derek frowns, but nods anyway. He clears the table and helps Stiles clean the dishes. Greg leaves to set up whatever he's got planned for today, and when he's gone, Derek presses a kiss to Stiles' non-mouth and then another to the hickey on his neck. Stiles rubs his nose against Derek's lightly, his forehead pressing against Derek's as he breathes his scent in.

"I like you doing that," Derek murmurs, and Stiles nods quickly in return. "He's coming back, better finish washing that frying pan."

Stiles nods again, and turns back to the sink as Derek dries off the cutlery. Greg comes in as Stiles hands the frying pan to Derek to dry, and waits for them to finish before leading them back out. Over the past week, Stiles has come to know this place like the back of his hand. It's not hard since there's only the one storey and six doors: two small bedrooms, an even smaller bathroom, the combined kitchen and computer room, and these two doors. The doors have always been locked, and Stiles has been dying to know what's behind them; it looks like he's about to find out. Greg opens the door on the left, flicking a light switch and ushering them inside. Stiles is so excited he almost leaps straight into the room, and then he stops short because _what the fuck?_ There's nothing interesting in the room, just a bed that looks just as hard and as high as Deaton's examination table. Oh, and there's a big metal tub on the other side of it. Stiles shivers; he hasn't had a good experience with those tubs.

"You need to close the door, Stiles," Greg says.

He nods briefly because Stiles knew that he would have to go in there again one day. He sighs out through his nose and heads over to the tub. Derek follows him and frowns as Stiles steps straight into the tub fully clothed.

"Am I missing something here?" he asks, looking between Stiles and Greg with a frown.

"When Allison, Scott, and I saved our parents from the Nemeton and Darach, we did so at the risk of our own lives. Deaton told us that a darkness would be around our hearts and would never go away."

Stiles stops typing for a moment, wondering if Allison's darkness is gone now that she is, or if it was transferred between him and Scott instead.

"I had a dream about a door, and I should have closed it, like Lydia said, but I did not. She was my anchor last time, and I should have listened to her, but I opened it, and I let the nogitsune out. I have to close the door now."

Derek's silent for a moment, and Stiles wishes that he could read his closed-off expression easier, but his wish doesn't come true. Still, Derek nods and steps forward.

"What do I need to do?"

"You need to hold me down under the water until I pass out," Stiles replies.

He sets his device down on the table so it won't get wet, and sits down in the cold water slowly. It's just as cold as he remembers, but his teeth can't chatter in response, and there's no others with him to go through this. Before he can lower himself into the water, Derek leans down and presses a kiss to his non-mouth.

"Look after yourself in there, Stiles."

He nods in return, fingers wrapping around Derek's briefly before he holds onto the tub itself. Stiles inhales deeply through his nose, and slides under the water. He keeps his eyes open for as long as possible, even as he thrashes about and tries to get out as his lungs burn, fighting against the firm grip Derek has on his shoulders. Instead, he watches as Derek watches him, blackness creeping at the edge of his world until it consumes it completely, and Stiles goes limp.

...

Stiles wakes up with a gasp, heart pounding in his chest. Beside him, Derek rolls over and tugs him close.

"You 'kay, Stiles?" he murmurs sleepily.

"I had a nightmare," Stiles replies, feeling for his mouth and finding it there after all.

"Hmm? What was it about?"

"Me..." Stiles says, voice fading as he looks over and sees the door wide open.

"Thought you were going to close the bathroom door before getting into bed?" Derek murmurs, sitting up beside him.

"I know. I thought I did," Stiles mutters, getting out of bed.

"Obviously not. Hurry back, I remember you promising how you were going to use that mouth of yours on my cock," Derek says, chuckling.

Stiles doesn't reply, gaze looking through the open doorway. It's not leading into a bathroom, as it usually does, and there's a darkness beyond the door that seems to be calling his name.

"Stiles? Stiles!" Derek barks, getting his attention. "Close the door. Please. You've got to close the door and come back to me."

"I will," Stiles promises, and the weight of those two words feels so much heavier than they should.

The door feels like solid lead, and Stiles struggles to close it. It feels like the darkness beyond the doorway is screaming his name now, screaming for him to stop, to leave the door open. But he's promised Derek, and Stiles wants to be the kind of person that keeps his promises. He keeps pushing at the door, budging it inch by inch. Then Derek's behind Stiles suddenly, helping him and using his werewolf strength to shut the door, to shut out the darkness. Stiles' muscles are screaming in pain - or perhaps it's a scream coming from his own mouth? - but the door finally closes.

The darkness fades from the room, and Stiles breathes a sigh of relief, though he's still not entirely sure why he's so relieved to shut a stupid door. Either way, he's got more important things to worry about right now.

"Now, what was that you said about my mouth?" Stiles asks with a grin, leading Derek back to bed.

Derek smiles back at him, moving in close and rubbing his nose against Stiles' gently.

...

Stiles wakes up, water filling his nose as he struggles to sit up. Derek's still there, and hurries to help him sit up properly. Greg's standing to the side with a towel, and offers it to Stiles after Derek's physically lifted him out of the tub and set him on his feet.

"Are you okay? Stiles, tell me you're okay," Derek murmurs, wrapping the towel around his shoulders and rubbing his arms to try and warm him up again.

Stiles can't stop shivering, but he manages to nod. Derek doesn't see the action, so caught up in warming him up, and Stiles has to physically grab his shirt before he'll look at him again. He nods as firmly as possible, and even gives him a thumbs up. Derek sighs in relief and pulls him in to a hug, ignoring the squish of wet clothes against his.

"You were under for eight hours, Stiles. You did well. Now, take the rest of the afternoon off and get warm. You will be of no use to anyone if you die of hypothermia," Greg says, and Stiles thinks he might actually be smiling.

Stiles barely manages to type out a 'thank you' before Greg leaves the room. Derek carries Stiles to the bathroom, strips him down without a word, does the same with his own clothes, and crowds into the shower with him. They barely fit, but Stiles doesn't care. He works his arms around Derek's waist, hugging him, neither one caring that they're both naked. Stiles concentrates on warming his body up again, and despite the proximity to Derek and Derek's naked body, he doesn't even have the energy to get an erection. It feels like he was under water for every one of those eight hours, and Stiles is just glad he's not alone this time. Derek murmurs soothing words, hands sliding along Stiles' body to help warm him, leeching his pain at brief intervals. Stiles rests his head on Derek's chest, and he slowly stops shivering. He lets Derek manhandle him back out of the shower, using another towel to dry him and wrap around his body. Derek mustn't think much of his own nudity, and walks straight out of the bathroom with Stiles in his arms. Stiles blushes and turns his head into Derek's chest, hoping that Greg isn't around. When they're back in his bedroom, Derek helps Stiles change into his pyjamas, then places him on the bed so he can get changed too. Stiles watches him, the flow of his body, hips, hands, everything as Derek pulls on a pair of sweatpants uses the discarded towel to dry his torso. Derek climbs into bed straight away, and pulls Stiles close, rubbing his nose to his. It's a calming motion now, and Stiles returns the gesture easily, moving into Derek's embrace and letting him leech his pain and warm him up at the same time. As he falls asleep, Stiles feels Derek press a kiss to his non-mouth, and wishes that he could respond in kind.

...

 

Now that the door's closed, Greg doesn't seem inclined to leave at night any more. Stiles wonders if the Benefactor was using the Nemeton and the open door as a way to get information on the supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills, but Greg doesn't answer any of his questions. It's kind of frustrating, and Stiles is pretty sure he's worn off the F on the keyboard from typing the word fuck so often, even if he can't bring himself to press play.

Still, with Greg staying in at night, they've got more time to train, and Stiles discovers that he shouldn't have been so excited to finally learn what the Mute Man actually is. He shifts his body until it's a shadow of his former self, until the darkness that surrounds him becomes him, and there's a monster in that darkness with teeth sharper than a werewolf's. Stiles freaks out completely the first time he sees Greg's true form, and he can't scream, but apparently him fainting in fear was enough of a clue for their training to be put on hold for the rest of that night. He came to in Derek's arms, shivering and shaking, and it took him a full day before he could look at Greg again. Stiles is used to Greg's true form now, and wonders what his own will look like when he's finally able to shift. He practices every night at his own insistence, though Greg continues to tell him it will take years for that sort of control. Stiles believes him, he really does, but he's already had a nogitsune inside of him, twisting everything up without his permission. This is something that he actually chose, and sure, he'd probably prefer to be a werewolf, all things considered, but this is his lot in his life and Stilinski men _always_ deal with their lots in life.

By the end of the second week, Stiles has trained enough that he knows how to use a tomahawk with more care and precision than his usual baseball bat. He knows how to input information into his own computer (Greg built it for him and presented it to him along with his own set of tubes and a box of feeding bags; Stiles is set for life), and he knows how to read the Code without second-guessing his translations, he's working on stretching the darkness around him, even though he still can't get his true form to show, and Stiles has even gotten fast enough to type on his voice simulator that he can get in a few words before Greg. At the end of the week, Stiles can admit that he's pretty fucking pleased with himself, really.

Derek arrives to take him home for the weekend, to finally catch up with everyone, and Stiles invites Greg along to the party. He's a little surprised when he agrees, but is kind of glad as well; he doesn't know how he'll go with a crowd of people - friends or not - and he doesn't want them to stare at him. When the three of them are in Stiles' Jeep, Derek hands him a small folded triangle of material.

"We both know that people are going to stare, Stiles. I thought you might like a way of covering up if you're with people who don't know," he explains, watching as Stiles unfolds the material to reveal a bandanna.

Stiles sees that there's a skeleton grin on the front of it, and laughs with his eyes, crinkling at the sides. Derek grins back at him, then starts the Jeep to head to the Stilinski residence. As they near the town, Stiles slips the bandanna on and ties it firmly around his head. He checks the mirror so that only his eyes and nose are showing, and sees Greg watching him curiously from the back seat.

"Do you want a bandanna too?" Stiles types out.

Greg shakes his head. "No. I do not need to associate with the rest of the world, so it does not matter to me."

"You are never getting laid with an attitude like that, Greg."

"Who is Greg?"

"Uh. You. I named you Greg. Mute Man sounds weird."

"You never asked for my name."

"You never told me you had one."

"Everything has a name, Stiles." There's a brief moment of silence, and then he continues before Stiles can ask what Greg's real name is. "You may continue calling me Greg."

"But that is not your real name, is it?"

"No."

"We're here, if you two chatterboxes want to get out of the car," Derek says, smirking.

"Fuck you."

"Classy, Stiles. Really."

Stiles presses the repeat button, raising an eyebrow mockingly. John meets him at the door, taking Stiles' bag and shaking Greg's hand. He doesn't seem surprised at Stiles' bandanna, or even worried about the fact that he's got a loop of tubing around his arm, a computer tucked under one arm, and a military grade tomahawk in the other. Thankfully, November's nearing and this could be explained as an early Halloween party if anyone tried to question it. (Stiles is pretty sure that if they did, they'd be faced with a night or two in the Beacon Hills Police station holding cell to think about what they'd really seen.)

"Come inside, everyone's set up one hell of a shindig."

"Thanks, Dad," Stiles says.

John grins and pats him on the shoulder. Stiles is glad to see that he's not moving as stiffly as he was before, and the bruising's faded down to an ugly yellow. Still, it was much better than the purple and black it had been two weeks ago. Derek and Greg follow Stiles and John into the house, and help him set things down in the foyer. Stiles is glad he had the chance to put everything down because the moment he's in the lounge room, he's bombarded with the whole pack. Scott, Kira, Lydia, Liam, and Malia all crowd around him, vying for attention, and he's a bit overwhelmed by it all to be honest. He hasn't had that much human contact in two straight weeks, and apparently, it's easy to forget just how full-on people can be. Derek growls and they all take a step or two back.

"Sorry, Stiles. I guess we're all a little excited to see you again. How are you?" Scott asks earnestly.

"I sound like a robot, but I am alive," Stiles' voice simulator says for him, and he shrugs.

"Can we see?" Malia asks.

Stiles shrugs again and nods briefly. He unties the bandanna, clutching it tightly as he looks at them and tries to gauge their reactions. Scott seems surprised, Kira's a little pitying, Liam just outright stares, Lydia looks intrigued, Deputy Parrish is standing behind her and doesn't seem to flinch at the sight ( _when did he become pack?_ Stiles wonders), and Malia ... Malia runs. Her eyes go wide, she goes into fight or flight mode, eyes blue and a growl forming, but when Stiles looks directly at her, she bolts straight out of the back door.

"Shit. Malia! I'll go get her, don't worry," Liam says, running after her.

"That bad, huh?" Stiles asks, trying to grin.

"No, not at all," Derek promises behind him, hands firm on his waist. "She's just not used to the smell."

"What smell?" Stiles asks, alarmed because this is the first time his smell's come up.

"You almost smell like death," Lydia answers before the others can, and she sounds kind of ... _dreamy?_

"What the hell?" Stiles is pretty sure that encompasses everything he's feeling right then.

"You are caught between life and death, Stiles. Our mouths are taken so we cannot scream," Greg says.

"Some people think you'd know the answers to life and death, and that's why your mouth's are taken," Parrish adds certainly, and Stiles _seriously_ wants to know where he's getting his information.

"Anyone want anything to eat or drink?" John offers, looking between them all.

Stiles shakes his head and replaces his bandanna. Before he can tie it up, Derek's fingers are there, knotting it securely for him. He turns and smiles with his eyes. Stiles flicks the volume switch and types a message, pressing play.

"Thanks, Derek bear," he says, volume at the lowest setting to try and afford them some privacy. (Der-bear never sounds right on the device, the voice always spelling out D-E-R and making it weird; Derek bear is as cutesy as he'll be able to get with a robotic voice.)

Derek smiles back, then glances over Stiles' shoulder to the others that are crowded around John and the plate of food, and back to Stiles, as if asking a question. Stiles stands up a little taller and touches his nose to Derek's, not caring who sees.

"Hmm. Cute. I suppose it's the only way you can show affection?" Lydia asks, closer than he realised and scaring the shit out of Stiles.

He turns the volume up on his device again. "I also have hands," Stiles replies, wishing there was a snarky tone setting.

Lydia seems to get his meaning anyway and raises her eyebrow at him. "I've made the decision to sit next to you in all of our classes, Stiles. Malia's terrified of you, the others can hear your little device no matter what setting you put the volume on, and I'll miss our little sarcastic chats over maths theories if I don't sit nearby."

Two years ago, this would have made Stiles's day, month, possibly year, but now he's not obsessed with her (he can see how unhealthy that one-sided relationship was in hindsight, and resolves to not do that ever again), and he narrows his eyes at her.

"What is really in it for you?" he asks.

"A chance to practice my banshee ability. Practice makes perfect, and you've got strings coming off you in waves," Lydia says, looking around Stiles' head as if she can see the physical manifestation of those strings.

"All right. But do not blame me if you start screaming because of something I cannot control, okay?"

"Not a problem," Lydia says, smiling sharply before she heads back over to Deputy Parrish.

Since everyone can hear him anyway, Stiles decides not to lower the volume setting. "That was weird. I am going to take my things upstairs. Can you make sure Lydia stays away from Greg?"

"I think Parrish has her entertained for the moment. I'll help you," Derek offers, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Lydia and Parrish kissing firmly. He honestly thought Parrish would be able to resist her for longer than a week, but apparently Lydia's willpower was stronger than he gave her credit for.

Stiles just nods and they both go out to the foyer to carry his things upstairs. Stiles drops the tubing on his desk chair as soon as he's inside his room, grabbing his pillow and hugging it tightly. Derek sets the tomahawk and computer down a little more carefully on Stiles' desk, grinning as he watches him go through his room like it's a long-lost lover.

"I think I'm jealous of your pillow, Stiles," he jokes, leaning back against the door.

Stiles shakes his head and rolls his eyes, throwing his pillow at Derek's head. Derek catches it easily and throws it high over Stiles' head to land on his bed again. Stiles tackles him into a hug, rubbing his nose on Derek's briefly before moving to nose at his neck. He pulls away to run his fingertips along Derek's mouth, then against his cheek, his Adam's apple, the hollow of his neck. Derek brings Stiles' free hand up to his mouth to kiss his fingers.

"Stiles? You and Derek coming back downstairs?" John calls, and Stiles winces, hitting his forehead against Derek's chest.

"It's all right. You're here to see everyone else anyway," Derek murmurs, pressing a kiss to Stiles' neck, then over his bandanna where his non-mouth should be.

Stiles lingers, trying to get certain traitorous parts of his body to calm the fuck down, and Derek smirks a little before he leaves his room.

"He'll be right down, Sheriff," Derek calls as he heads downstairs.

Stiles sighs through his nose and looks out of his window. He sees Liam talking with Malia at the back edge of his backyard, and hopes they'll both be okay. He didn't mean to scare her like that. Stiles goes back downstairs to find everyone sitting in the lounge room with a movie ready to play. Even Greg's sitting on the couch, in between Lydia and Scott. Stiles is kind of glad to see that Greg looks like he's not quite sure how he came to be sitting down, and he's not the only one that gets that way around Lydia. She's controlled a Kanima, so Stiles really shouldn't underestimate her ability to do anything.

"We've got Star Wars set up. Interested, kid?" John asks, grinning at him.

Stiles smiles as brightly as he can, nods firmly, and sits on a beanbag in front of Derek. Derek rolls his eyes and pulls him up onto the armchair with him, wrapping his arm around Stiles' stomach gently.

"You two aren't having sex, are you?" John asks before the movie can start.

"No!" the answer comes from Scott, Kira, Lydia, and Parrish immediately.

"That's a bit more information than I needed to know, but I was talking to my son," John says, looking a little traumatised.

Stiles shakes his head. "No, Dad. We are not having sex. It is a shame I no longer have a mouth because there were things I could have done that would have - "

" _Okay!_ That's more than enough talking from you, thank you, Stiles. Please, someone put the movie on," John begs weakly.

Scott, who's still blushing beside an equally red Kira, grabs the remote and presses play quickly. Derek, who hid his face against Stiles' back when he replied to the Sheriff's question, only moves when he hears the music playing.

"What were some of the things you could have done with your mouth?" he whispers softly in Stiles' ear.

Across the lounge, Scott and Kira both start coughing loudly, and Parrish looks like he's blushing. Stiles blushes, the flush of red skin clear above his bandanna, and he moves a hand to Derek's leg. He slowly writes the word 'later' on his jeans, and Derek nips at his neck discreetly. He writes his own word in return, slow and teasing, 'now'. Stiles glances over to the others, who are still bright red and trying not to focus on what they're doing, and shakes his head minutely.

Malia comes in with Liam, gripping his arm tightly, and she's not able to look at Stiles. She moves over to the other end of the lounge room, Liam beside her and murmuring comforting things. Stiles feels awful, because it was nice to have someone need him again, and now Malia looks as though she'll never be able to be in the same room as him again unless she's forced there. He slumps back against Derek's chest, sighing through his nose, and turns his attention back to the movie as Derek strokes his arms until he's not thinking about anything other than his embrace and Star Wars.

...

 

The weekend passes far too quickly for Stiles' liking. Monday morning arrives with his father knocking on his door, and Derek moving to hide in the closet. They're not having sex, but neither one wears much to bed, and John walking in to see them in that state of undress? He'd definitely jump to the obvious but untrue conclusion. Stiles manages to type something possibly coherent on his device, volume up loud.

"Do not want to go. Want sleeeeep."

"We all do, kiddo; it's your first day back in two weeks, and you've got to go in. I've told them all that you've hurt your mouth and will be wearing a bandanna for the rest of the school year. You tell me if anyone says anything about it, and I'll come right down there, okay?"

"Okay. I am awake now. Go to work, Dad. Love you."

"Love you too, Stiles. I've left your breakfast mix on the bench for you," John adds, leaving once more.

"Did Greg show him how to make my breakfast?" Stiles asks Derek, lowering the setting so his dad won't overhear.

Derek shook his head. "I did."

"Thank you, Derek bear."

"Stop with the cute names and get your butt out of bed. You're going to be late if you don't hurry. And don't think I'm letting you leave without getting all of your breakfast in."

"Geez, okay. Okay. I am up now," Stiles said, scowling.

Derek just smiles and kisses him. "I know. Now, shower. I'll make sure your breakfast is cool enough to eat."

Stiles nods and heads out to the bathroom, scratching at his head and wishing he could yawn.

Twenty minutes later, Stiles has showered and dried off, and is in the process of pulling on his underwear and pants when Derek walks in. He raises an eyebrow at him, but Derek puts a finger to his lips and shakes his head. Stiles pulls a shirt on just as the front door opens, and he runs out of his room to lean over the stair railing and see what's going on.

"It's just me, kid. Forgot my badge," John calls. "Have a good day!"

Stiles waves down at him since he left his device in his room, and John smiles as he heads back out again. Derek tugs Stiles' shirt to pull him back onto the landing.

"Breakfast, quickly. And don't lean so far over the railing, almost gave me a heart attack."

"Yes, mother," Stiles replies, rolling his eyes.

"Don't you take that tone with me," Derek mutters, pressing Stiles' device into his hands as he ties the bandanna around his mouth for him. "I'll get the wooden spoon out and spank you like my mother did when I talked back to her."

Stiles stops short and turns to Derek, a grin in his eyes.

"You're honestly getting turned on by the thought of me spanking you?"

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Derek groans, resting his head against Stiles' neck.

"You have to eat and get to school. We'll discuss this later. In a lot of detail," Derek promises, nudging Stiles towards the stairs.

"I still have not told you what I would have used my mouth for," Stiles replies, winking.

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?"

Stiles shakes his head and goes downstairs, looking far too smug for Derek's liking. Derek grabs Stiles' bag and gives a whistle before he throws it down to him. Stiles catches it, leaving it by his shoes at the front door, and goes into the kitchen to have breakfast. Derek boils the kettle for a coffee, barely watching as Stiles connects the tube to his neck and starts swallowing down his protein-filled breakfast.

"I have lacrosse practise this afternoon. Will you come watch?" Stiles asks Derek as they pull up to the school.

"You want me to?" Derek asks in surprise.

"Yes. Do not laugh if I collapse after running," Stiles adds, his eyebrows creasing in to a frown.

"Don't worry, I won't laugh more than once. I'll be there," he adds, grinning. Then his grin fades slightly as a group of students walk past. "You tell me if any of these little shits are rude to you."

"That would be most of the student population, Derek. People will notice if there is a group of missing students, you know. I will be fine. Do not worry about me."

"This coming from the guy who made his dad list every item of food he ate for two straight weeks."

"That is different, and you know it. Now, say goodbye, and let me get to class."

Derek still doesn't seem pleased, but he pulls Stiles over the gear stick and kisses his non-mouth firmly, readjusting his bandanna as he pulls away. Stiles sighs and runs his thumb along Derek's lip softly.

"Yeah, I know. I'll see you after school," Derek promises.

Stiles makes sure his bandanna is secure, and gets out of the car. He sees Scott, Kira, and Lydia waiting for him at the front door and waves to them. He waves goodbye to Derek, and heads up to the building, hoping like hell that he'll survive this. As he greets them, Stiles' friends surround him in a matter of seconds. He sees that Malia and Liam are waiting inside, Malia not looking as terrified now, and he waves at her. She seems pleased at that, but still waves back a little hesitantly.

Stiles doesn't even make it to his locker before someone tries to rip his bandanna off, and it surprises all of them when Liam is the first to react, pulling the junior aside with a growl and berating him in a way that even impresses Lydia. Stiles reties the bandanna with trembling fingers, Scott and Kira checking the sea of faces to make sure no one saw anything. When everything seems all right, they continue to their lockers. This time, no one tries to get near Stiles or his bandanna.

"This is going to be a long day," Stiles types.

"You said it," Lydia mutters.

The rest of the day goes by at a snail's pace, and Stiles is so terrified that someone will try to take his bandanna off that he can barely concentrate in his classes. Most of the teachers seem to be sympathetic towards him - after the story his father told the faculty, Stiles isn't surprised; something about permanent disfigurement and no ability to talk. Which isn't too far from the truth, really. - but then there's Finstock.

"I'm not going to go easy on you just 'cause you can't talk, Stilinski. You'll be working just as hard as you have, and you're not coasting by in my class, or on the field, got it?" Finstock says the moment he sees Stiles in class.

"Got it, Coach," Stiles types.

"What the hell is that? Shit, that thing's creepy. I suppose I'll get used to it. I got used to Greenberg's voice. That _doesn't_ mean you can talk to me, Greenberg."

Stiles is kind of glad that Finstock doesn't treat him any differently, and he almost lets himself relax in Econ.

...

Lacrosse practice starts as soon as school's over for the day, and the rest of the team are giving Stiles a wide berth, as if he's contagious or something. Danny, Liam, and Scott are the only ones who pay him any attention, and Stiles makes himself smile the best he can, and follows them out onto the field.

Derek's already waiting in the stands, Malia and Lydia on either side of him. Kira's on the team now, playing goalie, and Stiles has gotta say she's fucking good. Danny wanted to play another position on the team, and while Finstock was reluctant to let his star goalie out of the goal area, he reluctantly agreed.

"All right, boys! Warm up time! Run around the field! You too, Kira!" Finstock calls belatedly, realising that she's technically not a boy.

Kira nods, way too enthusiastically for Stiles liking, and starts running. God, she's good at that too. Ugh, Stiles is going to die a sweaty horrible death - in front of Derek no less - and the newbies are running like it's _easy_. He hates them all. Stiles starts running, Scott, Kira, and Liam running ahead, and he keeps running, surprising himself when he actually passes a few people. Danny's up ahead, slower than the other three only due to his human status, and Stiles realises that he has never actually seen Danny unless he's overtaking him while on laps. Holy hell, he can actually run now. Okay, he's not as fast as the werewolves, but he's faster than he was, and that's no less than absolutely fucking fantastic to Stiles. He finishes his laps in the top fifteen, and Finstock looks between Stiles' heavily breathing figure to his stopwatch in disbelief.

"Well done, Stilinski. You've finished and I don't want to die just from looking at you. Hurry up, the rest of you! Stilinski's finished before you! That's just as bad as Greenberg beating you!"

 _Gee, thanks Coach_ , Stiles thinks sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Stiles looks over to the stand and sees Derek sitting there with Malia and Lydia, actually looking interested or somewhat impressed. Stiles gives him a thumbs up and Derek grins in return. Lydia rolls her eyes at the two dorks, and continues to help Malia with her maths homework.

The rest of practice goes surprisingly well, and Stiles feels better when he's wearing his helmet and he doesn't have to worry about his bandanna blowing around in the wind. He doesn't magically get good at lacrosse, not like the rest of the pack, but his work with the tomahawk has definitely improved his hand-eye coordination, and Stiles is able to get the ball in the vicinity of the goal easier than he did at the start of the year. (Kira stops every ball, even Scott's, but he just looks so damn proud of his girlfriend that no one could ever think he's upset about it.) Stiles finishes practice pleased with his overall success, and while he doubts he'll ever be Captain or even co-Captain, he's happy nonetheless.

He decides to shower at home, and just swaps his lacrosse shirt for his school one, then waves to the rest of the team and heads back out to the stands where Derek's waiting.

"Hey, ready to go home?" Derek asks.

Stiles nods firmly. He looks over to Malia and Lydia to say goodbye, and sees Lydia zoned out, writing in a notebook in a way that reminds him all too forcefully of the nogitsune.

"Lydia? Lydia. LYDIA," he says, volume up as high it will go, and only then does it startle her out of her reverie.

"What? What's wrong? I was just writing Malia's notes for maths," she says, frowning up at Stiles a little crossly.

He shakes his head. "That is not maths," Stiles points out, looking at the code she's written down.

Lydia looks down at the notebook slowly, and then pushes the book away, shaking her head. "No. I was writing notes, damn it! I'm _supposed_ to be getting better at controlling this!"

"You just need more practice, like you said before," Stiles types with one hand as he picks up the book with the other. "Do you know what you wrote here?"

Lydia sighs and studies the pages with a frown. She shakes her head. "Not a clue."

"I know what it says. I will need my computer though," Stiles says, looking to Derek.

Derek nods. "We'll all head over to your house then. Lydia, are you all right to drive, or do you want me to take you and Malia?"

"I'm fine now," Lydia replies, sighing again.

"Uh, I don't think you are, and I don't want to get in a car with you right now. I'll go with Derek and Stiles," Malia pipes up, looking between them and not sounding at all sorry about it.

"Oh, _fine_. We'll all go in your horrible death contraption of a Jeep. If I die in that thing, I am coming back to haunt you for the rest of eternity."

Stiles just rolls his eyes at her and leads the way over to his Jeep. Lydia and Malia go over quickly, Derek tugging Stiles' sleeve to hold him back.

"I just want you to know I'll be scenting you properly the minute we're alone. Don't have a shower when we get back," Derek murmurs, lips pressing against his neck.

Stiles nods weakly, fingers light on the curve of Derek's neck.

"Can you two talk about your scenting habits later?" Malia calls from the Jeep.

Stiles doesn't bother to reply, his fingers entwining with Derek's as he tugs him over to the car.

...

"You might not want to watch this," Stiles warns Lydia and Malia as he hooks up a tube to his computer and the other to his neck.

They're both too curious for their own good, and keep watching without complaint. Stiles reads the code that Lydia has written, liquid flowing from him into the computer and the shapes and symbols appear on the screen immediately. He could translate it as it's being uploaded, but this whole inputting process can be a bit painful, and Stiles doesn't want to push it. Instead, he waits until it's all loaded - halfway through a sentence at the end, so he must have stopped Lydia before the message was complete - and slowly pulls the tube out, hooking it to the attachment on the computer.

"Give me a minute to type the translation," Stiles tells them, turning to his normal computer and opening a word processing program. He keeps one eye on his smaller tubed computer and starts typing. Like Lydia and her message, Stiles kind of zones out as he types, and doesn't really process the actual words themselves.

When he finishes typing, Stiles blinks and looks at the words he's written on the screen.

YOU WERE NEVER MEANT TO SAVE THE BOY OR THE OTHERS IN HIS PACK. THEY SHOULD BE DEAD. YOU HAVE FAILED US. GIVE US THE BOY AND YOU WILL BE ALLOWED TO LIVE. IF YOU DO NOT, THEN WE WILL -

"That doesn't sound good," Malia mutters.

"Derek, can you find Greg?" Stiles asks, turning to him.

Derek nods and leaves through the window.

"What can we do?" Lydia asks Stiles, looking to the screen of symbols and his translated text.

"See if you can finish the message. I should not have interrupted you. I am sorry for that now," Stiles admits. "If we do not know what they plan to do to Greg, then we do not know how to stop it."

Lydia looks a little overwhelmed at the thought, but nods firmly. She grabs the notebook, a pen and heads downstairs to the lounge room to try to concentrate.

"What about me?" Malia asks.

"You have maths homework to finish. You can borrow my notes from Lydia. I know those are written correctly, at least," Stiles adds, handing her his own small notebook.

Malia doesn't look pleased to say the least, but nods reluctantly, and takes her maths homework out of her bag, along with three different highlighters. She follows after Lydia, leaving Stiles in his room alone. While they do as he's instructed, Stiles stands in the middle of his room and takes his bandanna off. He has to get his true form showing and under control if he's going to be any use against this new threat.

...

 

Scott receives a text from Lydia, so he, Kira and Liam head to Stiles' house after they've finished cleaning up after lacrosse practice. They arrive in time to see Derek leaving the house via the window, and Lydia answers the door a minute or two after Scott replies to her text message.

"Greg might be in trouble, Derek's gone to find him, and Stiles can communicate with his computer via a liquid that looks like blood," Lydia says in greeting, eyes wide.

"Uh. That's not normal, is it?" Liam asks uncertainly, looking between them.

"It might be for Mute Men; I've honestly got no idea," Scott admits.

"Guess we'll find out eventually," Kira says, shrugging as she heads inside and follows Lydia into the lounge room.

Scott and Liam trail in after her, shutting the front door behind them. Malia comes downstairs, looking a little brighter when she sees Liam's there, and puts three highlighters in her mouth to wave at him.

"Freshmen," Lydia mutters, rolling her eyes.

She's drawing something in a notebook, and Scott wants to ask what it is, but then Kira starts talking about lacrosse, and he's drawn into her energy and conversation easily.

It takes them all longer than they'd like to admit to realise that the room is getting darker by the second, and it has nothing to do with the sun outside. The light is on above them, but shadows are creeping into the room nonetheless, and Liam gives a shout of surprise when he realises, moving to the centre of the room. Scott, Kira, and Malia follow immediately, snarling and trying to figure out how to get rid of the shadows. Lydia's still drawing in her notebook, her pen scratching into the paper firmly, and it seems to surround and echo every movement of the encroaching shadows, scaring the shit out of the other four.

"Get her to stop!" Liam hisses at Scott.

"It's not her! This isn't Lydia," he mutters in reply, eyes red as he looks around.

Lydia's calmly drawing away, eyes focused on something beyond the paper perhaps, and Stiles is upstairs...

"Stiles? Is this you?" Scott asks, feeling a little foolish for saying it aloud, but then the shadows rise up in front of him and _give him a thumbs up_. "Geez, dude, you scared the crap out of us! What the hell?"

"This is Stiles? Really?" Kira asks, calming down and letting the flash of electricity return to her body.

"It's him. It smells like him. Well, like he smells now," Malia adds, sniffing one of the shadows uncertainly.

"You're sure? It's not a trick or something?" Liam asks, claws still out and eyes golden.

"It's not a trick. It's okay, Liam," Scott promises, letting his own claws and coloured eyes fade.

The shadows disappear suddenly, and Lydia blinks her way back into the world of the living once more.

"What happened?" she asks hesitantly, seeing their expressions.

"Stiles almost killed us with shadows," Malia replies easily, sitting on the lounge and taking her maths book up once again.

"I did not. I had perfect control. Almost." Stiles' voice sounds petulant, even if it's still robotic, and he makes his way into the lounge room.

"That is a creepy picture, Lydia," Kira murmurs, frowning at the darkened page.

"Is that me? Can I see? It is hard to see what I look like," Stiles admits, taking the offered notebook from Lydia. His expression falls when he sees the black page, nothing but white eyes in the shadow. "That does not help me very much."

Lydia shrugs. "You want someone to draw you properly, get a psychic. I'm just a banshee."

Stiles sighs and sits on the lounge. "I do not have as much control as I would like."

"Do you have an anchor, like we do?" Liam asks curiously.

"I am not a wolf. I do not think I need an anchor," Stiles replies, though his expression is thoughtful. "I do not know what my anchor would be."

"Derek."

 _Okay,_ ** _all_** _of them answering at once was a little creepy; and how much does Liam know to have cause to say that so certainly?_ Stiles wonders. Still, they have a point. He might have thought of his father, but try as he does, John doesn't truly understand all of this world and what it entails. Derek knows more than any of them combined - even with Stiles' Google fu skills - and he's been a constant throughout all of this.

"I am going to try again. Do not be scared," Stiles tells the others, standing to the side.

Malia doesn't even bother to look up from her maths book, but Liam lets out a small snarl as the shadows start creeping in again.

Stiles thinks about Derek, about the smile he has only for him, the way he helps however he can even when it's clear he doesn't want to, how he understands Stiles even though he can't talk anymore, how he's been there every single step of the way, long before the Mute Man came to Beacon Hills. Stiles can feel his heart pounding, as if it's saying Derek's name with every beat, and while he can't hear Derek like Scott could Allison, Stiles feels his centre shift and everything align, and he knows that everything will be all right.

He's encased in shadow, the whole room and house is covered in shadow, in fact, and Stiles lets his true form shift out from beneath his skin. A flash of white has him turning his head, and then Stiles realises that he can see his true form. It's a pure white fox, nine tails, and glowing eyes, and it's as tall as he is. It's not the terrifying beast he expected, but Stiles feels _right_ when he sees his fox, and reaches out to pet it.

The front door opens with a slam, and all of the shadows go on alert, Stiles' fox leaping forward, past his outstretched hand immediately. Then it stops suddenly, because that's Derek at the front door. Derek, with Greg bleeding out in his arms, and the shadows disappear immediately as everyone goes into a panic. Derek roars and quietens their noise, eyes glowing as he turns to Stiles.

"He's been asking for you. Needs to use your computer," Derek says.

Stiles nods and hurries upstairs, Derek a step behind him. The others follow and crowd around the doorway, watching as Stiles connects the tube to Greg's neck. Liquid starts pouring into the tube immediately, lines upon lines of code being written upon the screen. Stiles reads it as fast as it appears, and though he pales, he can't tell the others just what he's reading; not yet.

The code stutters, the liquid slowing, and Stiles is crying, he can feel the hot tears down his cheeks, but he can't tell the others that Greg is dying. He thinks they know anyway, and Lydia looks as though she's about to scream, but this can't be the end. Greg's not meant to die, not because of him! No one's meant to die because of him, but that's always the way and always the reason, isn't it? None of them would be here if it wasn't for him, Stiles convincing Scott that they needed to go find a body in the woods. And now friends have died, and his mentor is about to die, and there's another set of symbols on the screen, so Stiles wipes his eyes and reads them, clinging to Greg's hand.

_My name is -_

Greg dies before he finishes his sentence, and Stiles covers his ears a second before Lydia screams his name. He doesn't want to know what else he was called; Greg was the name he knew him by.

Derek puts his hand on Stiles' shoulder, reminiscent of Boyd, and Stiles starts crying pitifully, thick tears tracking down his cheeks as he struggles to breathe.

Stiles can't watch as the others unplug the tube from Greg's neck and slowly carry him out of the room. Derek doesn't offer to help them, instead he chooses to stay with Stiles and slowly leech his pain until Stiles is sleeping fitfully on the bed. He climbs in beside Stiles, holding him close. Derek's still awake when the others return, and doesn't protest when Scott immediately climbs up on the bed with them, Kira, Lydia, Liam and Malia following soon after. They need to comfort Stiles just as much as he does right now, and Derek falls asleep surrounded by pack.

...

 

When Stiles wakes up in the morning, it's to find himself quite literally surrounded by bodies. They're all breathing, alive, and unhurt, which is a nice change for once, and he looks over to the computer screen that still has Greg's message. He carefully gets out of bed, trying not to kick anyone in the face by accident (he almost steps on Liam, curled as he is at the end of the mattress), and sits in front of his computer to translate the message properly. The others have all woken up by the time he's finished typing, and Stiles leaves them to read it, desperately needing to eat something since he missed his dinner the night before.

"The Benefactor's coming for you, Stiles. He's going to try to use you like he used Greg. Do you have a plan?" Derek asks as he comes into the kitchen while Stiles is halfway through his breakfast.

Stiles can't answer, not while he's holding his breakfast up and trying to swallow it at the same time, so Derek just sets about making his own breakfast and coffee. Lydia comes down next, standing in the doorway and staring as Stiles stares back at her and keeps swallowing. He's not going to choke to death simply because someone's watching him eat. His father and Derek are all right with it, and so is he, so why should anyone else be concerned?

"I hope you have all of your daily food requirements in that pouch, Stiles," Lydia says eventually, taking a mug from the shelf and helping herself to the coffee.

He rolls his eyes at her as if to say 'of course I do', and keeps swallowing. Scott and Kira are next, and they both just stand there staring.

"Coffee?" Lydia asks them, directing their attention away from Stiles, and both Scott and Kira nod quickly, taking their own mugs from the shelf.

Derek shakes his head and moves so that he's standing behind Stiles, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Malia and Liam arrive shortly after, and they both look curious at Stiles and his bag of breakfast, but neither one says anything. Stiles finally finishes his breakfast and throws away the feeding bag, setting the tube in the sink to clean.

"So, what's the plan?" Derek asks, taking a bite of buttered toast.

"I am not going to let the Benefactor use me like he did Greg. I plan on fighting him."

"We don't know who or what the Benefactor is; how do you plan on fighting him?" Scott points out.

"I did not say it was a good plan," Stiles types out, rolling his eyes.

"You realise that in order to get to the Benefactor, you will have to put yourself out as bait?" Lydia asks.

"Again, it is not my best plan. Unless you can think of something better, this is what I will be doing."

"We. We're doing this; I'm not letting you go up against this guy alone," Derek says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"I'm in," Kira says, grinning.

"With you 'til the end of the line," Scott adds with a chuckle.

"I regret taking you to see Captain America," Stiles admits, rolling his eyes.

"Nah, you don't. Liam, Malia, Lydia, you in?"

"Of course. We've lived through stupider plans, so why not?" Lydia says, shrugging.

"Okay," Malia says easily.

"You're sure we'll live?" Liam asks hesitantly.

Stiles can't really blame him, it's his first big fight since the Beserkers, and that wasn't exactly a fight once Kate was killed. This mysterious Benefactor, whoever he or she was, wanted to kill or use supernatural creatures for their own purpose, and that just wasn't going to happen in Stiles' town.

"I hope that we will. We may not," Stiles admits truthfully.

Liam still looks hesitant about all of this, but he nods anyway. "All right, I'm in."

"Go team!" Stiles says. The others just look at him and roll their eyes. "What?"

...

Finding the Benefactor isn't easy, mostly because they have no idea who the Benefactor is, or how they get their list of supernatural beings. In the end, Stiles chooses to make a spectacle of himself in public and hopes that it will be enough to get the Benefactor's attention. In the middle of the first lacrosse game of the season, Stiles takes off his helmet, removes his bandanna, and turns to face the crowd. It takes a minute or two for people to realise what's wrong, cameras zooming in to focus on the player who's stopped in the middle of the field for no reason, and then a few people start screaming when they see Stiles' mouthless face. Scott and Liam score a goal each, and the game's actually fairly easy to win after that, the other players on the team terrified to go anywhere near Stiles, so he gets a clear line down the field.

"You keep running, Stilinski! If that kid in Night Vale can have two heads, you can have no mouth! Just keep on playing!"

Stiles wonders if it was such a good idea to turn Finstock to the world of podcasts; he's starting to believe they're real. But hey, with the amount of supernatural shit that goes down in Beacon Hills on a weekly basis, who's to say what's real or not anymore?

...

Stiles waits for three straight weeks, jumping at every noise and freaking out at every shadow (even his own at one point), and there's still no Benefactor. His dad has been told about the plan, and while he doesn't like it either ( _when will people trust in his plans?!_ ), it's already been set in motion and there's not much else they can do but wait. He does instruct Deputy Parrish to watch over Stiles, which is probably why Lydia starts to spend so much time at the Stilinski residence. Those two end up working on her banshee skills more often than not, and Stiles sits up in his bedroom with Derek.

"I am going insane here, Derek bear. I just want to get this over and done with. Where is the benefactor and why has he not shown up yet?" Stiles complains.

Derek shrugs in response. "No idea. Maybe they've got other supernatural creatures to pick up - ones that aren't being guarded?"

"Guarding me definitely is not helping. Can we send Parrish and Lydia home now? I think you are right - the Benefactor will not try to take me if I am being guarded. You go as well, but keep an eye on things," Stiles adds.

"I'm not leaving you here alone, Stiles. That wasn't part of the plan," Derek says firmly.

"Neither was Parrish, but he is still here. Go on. I am sure I will be fine tonight," Stiles says, trying to smile reassuringly and most likely failing.

Derek sighs and pulls Stiles close. He kisses him firmly, his thumb caressing Stiles' cheek gently. "I will be outside watching, okay? Anything happens, I'll be here straight away."

Stiles nods, running his thumb along Derek's cheek, and then along his lower lip. Derek leaves, and Stiles shakes his head in amusement when he hears Derek ushering Lydia and Parrish outside.

"I thought they would never leave."

Stiles spins around, eyes wide when he sees Gerard fucking Argent _floating_ by his window.

...

"Do you know how long I've been waiting for them to go? It's so hard to get good help these days, and you forced me to kill my last Mute Man," Gerard snarls, coming into the room and moving so that he's standing on the floor.

"What the fuck are you?" Stiles asks, blinking in confusion.

"A combination of the best creatures the supernatural world has to offer. Werewolves aren't the only creatures out there, and thanks to my life as a hunter, I know exactly what's where, and how much it takes to buy or kill them... Now, with that knowledge in mind, do you honestly think I was going to sit by uselessly in a retirement home doing nothing buy cough up black ooze for the rest of my life?" Gerard sneers.

"I would have hoped so; it is all that you are good for, you geriatric fuck," Stiles types, and doesn't even care that he gets backhanded for his comment.

"I saw your little display on the lacrosse field, of course. Since you made me kill my last Mute Man, you'll have to do as a replacement. You will be his replacement, whether you want to be or not," Gerard adds firmly, glowering at Stiles

"You would not want me; I am a mouthy little shit, remember?" Stiles replies, remembering every single taunt that Gerard had said while he had beat him up.

"Yes, but as we both know, you have _significantly_ less mouth now," Gerard sneers.

 _Less mouth, but more bite_ , Stiles thinks to himself. Shadows envelope the whole room immediately, and his fox comes out to play.

...

 

Stiles unleashes his fox, watching as it battles Gerard, and Gerard actually manages to fight back. As he fights, Stiles sees different parts of various creatures in Gerard: the wendingo's teeth, a kanima's tail, fairy's ability to fly. He looks utterly deformed and like such an abomination that Stiles almost pities the man. But then Gerard lands a blow on his fox, and Stiles lets go of all of his pity and fights back. The fox becomes sharper, fangs longer, claws fiercer, and they fight together, knocking Gerard back again and again. Each hit is for the ones he received at Gerard's hands, for the electric torture he put Erica and Boyd through, for the emotional manipulation of his friends, for Greg's death.

Gerard is sobbing in pain soon enough, fallen back on the ground, and it's _still_ not enough. Stiles snarls as a thought comes to him and the fox moves forward, a single claw embedding in Gerard's neck. Stiles grabs the tube from his computer, stabbing it more forcefully than needed into the hole, and watches as liquid pours out of Gerard and translates into code on the screen. Gerard wasn't made for this, isn't a Mute Man with no mouth to handle this, and he _screams_.

Stiles feels strangely calm as he listens to Gerard screaming, and he keeps the shadows wrapped around Gerard's body firmly as he continues to input all of his knowledge into the computer. He's vaguely aware of his bedroom door opening, of Derek's voice beyond the shadows, but Stiles can't reply, so he simply keeps watching the screen, seeing the list of names and creatures and places and debts and secrets; every single thing that is inside Gerard's head will soon be in his computer, and it looks like the list is almost complete.

There's a gurgling noise from behind him, and Stiles turns to see Gerard choking on the black ooze. He takes a single step forward, then stops. Stiles has always had a moral ambiguity when it came to those outside of his friends and family, and he's never felt a need to apologise or change that. Gerard is definitely not family, nor is he a friend, and in fact, he's tried to kill Stiles' family and friends several times over the years. So instead of moving forward to help, as most people probably would, Stiles stays where he is, turns on his heel and continues to watch his computer screen. _Let Gerard die the same way Greg did_ , Stiles thinks viciously, _even though it's not an honour he deserves_.

Slowly, the gurgling turns into a choking and gasping sound, and then it stops completely. The code on the screen stops as well, and Stiles turns to see Gerard, lying dead on his bedroom floor. He pulls the tube out of his neck, decides that he needs a new tube anyway, and lets the shadows consume both the body and the length of plastic. His fox seems to be healing, and looks happier now that Gerard's dead. That makes two of them, honestly. Stiles blinks, and the shadows disappear completely, Gerard's body disappearing as well. Derek's standing there, eyes wide as he looks between Stiles and the place he had seen Gerard's body.

"Is it over?" he asks.

Stiles nods briefly. "Gerard was the Benefactor. I killed him though; he is dead... But I also got the list from his head first, along with a few more minor details," Stiles replies, and Derek can tell that he's grinning, he knows it. "I know where your bearer bonds are; you might want to let Peter know so he can stop sulking."

Derek snorts in amusement and shakes his head. "Peter can wait; he's been insufferable these last few weeks," he admits. "Are you okay? What did Gerard do?" he adds, seeing the pale pallor of Stiles' face.

"Took a bit out of me and my fox... Think Ineed somethingtoeat," Stiles types out, the words blurring together as he sways on his feet precariously.

Derek catches Stiles before he falls to the floor, and takes him down to the kitchen to feed him. It's a messy job, especially as Stiles isn't exactly conscious to swallow properly, but he eventually gets enough food in his body to bring some colour back to his cheeks. Derek carries Stiles back upstairs and dresses the few wounds that have appeared on his body - seemingly a physical manifestation of the damage done to his shadow fox - before settling Stiles on the bed and tucking him in.

Derek texts everyone to let them know that the Benefactor's been taken care of, and Stiles will be okay with a few days of rest. Somehow, everyone chooses to interpret Derek's text as 'Stiles needs all of us right now', and he finds himself surrounded by the rest of the pack in under half an hour. Derek doesn't tell them that Stiles let Gerard die - that's his information to tell, if he chooses to tell it - and just mutters at everyone to get on the bed already. They do so without pestering him for any more information, and they all end up curled around Stiles. It's not the way Derek ever thought he'd get a pack again, but he has to say: he doesn't mind this at all. (If he changes his mind ten minutes later when he hears Scott snoring, then that's Derek's business.)

He holds Stiles a little tighter, and as he drifts off to sleep, Derek swears that he can feel a pair of lips pressing against his shoulder, the shadows retreating as sleep claims him.

...

The end.

Thanks for reading!


End file.
